death doesn't discriminate
by Nikolai Argyris
Summary: And Yuuri smiles, watching the blood dribble down the sheets, because who needs a failure like him anyway? And his world starts to darken, the last thing he sees is the growing pool of his blood.
1. between the sinners and the saints

Anxiety.

It was something Yuuri couldn't remember ever living without.

It started small. Little by little, it slowly festered in his mind. Seeds of doubt planted in his thoughts. A doubt here and there, whispers of insecurity and diffidence. And it grew, attaching itself to him- almost like a parasite. And it became a vital point in his being. Katsuki Yuuri wasn't Katsuki Yuuri without his anxiety and constant panic attacks.

And how degrading that was.

To have a label forced on him, one that defines who he is- the _him_ that people see.

It brought about constant panic attacks. Feelings of unworthiness and uselessness became a norm. And everyday, he'd slowly succumb to it. Believing the _(poisonous)_ truths _(lies)_ it brought.

Because what else is he supposed to believe?

The more people say it, the more he hears it, the more he starts to believe it.

And there was a side of him that hated it. That was disgusted with how he was acting- giving in to the belittlement he was given.

How he wanted to continue to cling on to that 'side' of him- his confidence, in a way.

But day by day, he'd found it harder to do so.

Yuuri wonders how did it come to this. Where did it start, when did it start.

Was it when his peers would belittle him, facing him with smiles of plated gold but with silver daggers when his back was turned? Or was it when he started gaining weight, faced with the unrealistic expectations and double standards of society?

As each day passes, he started to notice his peers' pity.

 _"Why won't he just quit?"_

 _"Can't even skate properly."_

Pity.

He grew to loathe the word. What was pity, if nothing but a sugar-coated means of hiding the condescending amusement of humans. He knew that people constantly pitied him for his incompetence.

It made it hard to trust people. Not when he'd been let down again and again by so many. Not when he looks at the people around him and sees the hidden lies, the laughter and the pity that would slowly bleed into the pleasant facade they present to the rest of the world.

So he isolated himself. Became socially withdrawn, only increasing the taunts of his so-called compeers.

It's tight grip on his mind never let go, it was always there. Haunting his thoughts. Taking over it.

And he hates it. Of all people, why him? What did he do to deserve this?

And along came depression.

He hadn't realized until it was too late, when its claws had already clasped unforgivingly on him.

He'd collapsed to his knees when the realization hit.

He remembers seeing articles of people taking their life, riddled with depression. And he'd used to think, how could they do this? What were they thinking?

Small stray thoughts would cross his mind and his curiosity _(temptation)_ led him to self-mutilation and self-hatred.

Time and time again, he would fall, crashing to the unforgiving ice. They ate away at his sanity, pushing him closer to the edge. The ice no longer felt safe, he'd see the lies people would tell him; kindness hid knives, concern hid condescending pity.

And the desire to rid of it all grew.

 _"You'll never be good enough."_

The jeers, the insults, all mocking his body and his skating.

 _"What kind of figure skater flubs all of his jumps?"_

 _"A dancer can't have that much weight."_

 _"You should just retire."_

While it had certainly affected him, he had tried and kept moving forward.

Until that fateful December night.

Until Sochi.

The ice, skating- his _**passion**_ , his _**raison d'être**_ , failed him. And he drowned in his shame. Sochi eradicated what little confidence he ever had.

He remembers standing in his room; his hand grasping a number of sleeping pills. It wasn't the first time he'd contemplated committing suicide. And he wanted to do it- he wanted it oh so **_badly_. **

Because really, he was worthless.

But he was weak.

His hand trembled whilst holding the pills, under the weight of what would be his decision and the consequences that he would inevitably face.

And he threw the pills to the wall and sunk into himself.

He _can't- he c **an't-**_

He'd gone back to Hasetsu, just like a pathetic coward. Unsure of the future, of his failing career.

And the universe just loved to see him suffer.

Victor Nikiforov came and asked- no, decided to be his coach.

And Yuuri can't help but wonder what Victor saw in him. Him, a man devoid of talent, deplorable and unworthy.

 _"Do you really think that you- a complete utter failure, deserve the Living Legend?"_

And he wants to shake Victor, scream at him to stop wasting his time on someone like him.

 _"You stole him from us- from the world. You don't deserve him."_

Days pass by and he trains non-stop. Pushing his limits. Spending each day with Victor _**(untouchable don't taint him he pities you don't hope-)**_

For a while, things are peaceful.

And he slowly starts to realize that he wants this.

That he wants Victor to be by his side. That he wants Victor to stay.

And isn't it hilarious? Someone like him who's undeserving, lamentable and vile, to wish that someone as perfect and flawless as Victor to stay with him.

 _No._

 _No, don't dare hope._

 _Hope brings nothing but disappointment and heartache. You know that._

 _He'll give up on you and leave._

He can't believe these lies _(truths)_ of Victor staying with him.

Because he sees.

He sees how Victor looks at the other contestants. He knows that Victor wants to skate again. That's where he belongs. He can't afford to be selfish, to keep Victor away from skating.

* * *

It's after the GPF that things take a turn for the worse. He's alone in the room, having refused the invitation to celebrate with the others, claiming that he was tired. And being left alone with his thoughts, the urge made itself known.

The glint of the blade shines under the moonlight.

 _ **You don't deserve him.**_

And he's so selfish, him, a mere silver medalist, to keep the Living Legend from the world.

 _ **Disgusting, the slashes on your wrist are disgusting.**_

He grips the dagger tightly, unconcerned about the blood spilling on the sheets.

 _ **Why don't you just die right now?**_

 _ **No one needs someone as pathetic as you.**_

And Yuuri smiles, watching the blood dribble down the sheets,

 _because who needs a failure like him anyway?_

And his world starts to darken,

the last thing he sees is the growing pool of his blood.


	2. it takes and it takes and it takes

Victor never had time for relationships.

Skating _was_ his life. Competitions _were_ his priority, love _was_ foreign to him.

Love was something that Victor wasn't familiar with.

And one might ask why. Why, when he had countless of fans around the world, loving and supporting him?

It felt more like adoration and admiration is what he would say.

He felt as though the people around him liked the idea of him.

The champion.

The one who endlessly smiled for the camera, the one who would undoubtedly win every season.

Victor Nikiforov isn't Victor Nikiforov without skating. And after his fifth gold medal, he realized that he'd become stagnant. The same old routine continued. Create a program, perfect it, win, create an even more difficult program, perfect it, win. The same things over and over again. What was once something that excited him became a chore.

Gold medal after gold medal, it was once something he'd endlessly strived for and chased after. It now bored him.

Give the media what they want, do what is expected of you and-

He was lonely.

It was a thought that he'd never entertained before. His whole life, he'd focused on skating and even then, he'd never formed proper bonds with the other competitors. Yuri was too young to understand. While Chris was someone he could call a friend, it wasn't enough.

He'd been too lackluster lately. Skating with no inspiration, not that a lot of people noticed.

He walked, skated without meaning, without motivation.

It was a vicious cycle that he found himself in. He longed for surprise, for change.

Victor wonders if it's arrogant of him, to think that being on the top was boring. People would compete against him and fail. Winning became chore. Winning became tiring. He was soon denominated a legend, practically untouchable, the one to beat, the one to surpass.

He wasn't happy about it.

It was all just so.. _pointless_ , futile even. What was the use of continuing if no one was there to challenge him? It was so repetitive, monotonous, dull. The days seemed to pass on monochromatically. Until Sochi.

Until Yuuri.

And months after, he found himself in Hasetsu, coaching the man he met that night. Oh and it was so.. _exhilarating._

He started to look forward to every single day. He felt.. _alive_. A complete 180 from his lackluster attitude.

Yuuri started the a new chapter in his life. One that Victor very much so wanted to spend with said man. It was something he never would've expected to want. It was all so new to him. Feelings he never thought he would encounter, he was experiencing. He wanted Yuuri to be happy, to smile. He wanted to be the reason Yuuri's happy.

Yuuri, his light, his love, his life. The more time Victor spent with him, the more he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. Yuuri gave him a purpose. His darling fiance- and Victor can't wait for the day that he's be saying "husband" instead of fiance, who was so selfless, so stunning, so perfect.

Victor walked back to the hotel with a visible skip in his steps, fiddling with his ring.

The ring that promised him happiness and love. The ring that promised him a future with Yuuri. Yuuri, who was his fiance. _Fiance._ Yuuri may not have won the gold medal but this gold was far more important. He was giddy at the mere thought of seeing his _fiance-_ and Victor will never tire of using the word.

He started to trek back to inside, finally calming himself down. Yuuri claimed that he was tired so he went back to the hotel early, Victor hadn't wanted to leave him but Yuuri insisted that he should enjoy the night.

Victor wonders how he was this lucky. To have a fiance who was so considerate. Someone who didn't let his anxiety get him down, his fiance- and he can't wait for the day he will be calling him his husband, who was so brilliant and extraordinary.

And he's already started to plan their wedding. Gold medal or not, he would marry Yuuri. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. Not even an eternity would be enough.

He reaches the door and grabs his key from his pocket.

He is met with silence.

Victor suddenly feels a chill go down in his spine.

"Yuuri?"

He was probably asleep, right? He did say he was tired earlier.

The lights flicker open and the sight that greets him terrifies him to the core.

"Yuu...ri?"

His eyes widen as he sees his _fiance_ lying so still- _he's never this still-_ on the bed, with blood surrounding him.

Time seems to stand still until Victor runs.

"Yuuri. _**Yuuri. no no no no-"**_

Victor's hands are shaking. He's calling the ambulance and his hand reaches for Yuuri's hand and it's so

 _cold._

His fiance was lying on a pool of blood and Victor has never been so frightened in his life.

Victor chokes back a sob. This can't be happening. This can't. Not to his Yuuri.

"Yuuri, pl _ **ease-"**_

* * *

Victor sits outside of the ICU, shaking in fear.

He might lose him. _He might lose Yuuri._

And a new wave of tears hit him. His mind is screaming at him, how did it come to this. I call him my fiance and yet I didn't notice what was happening.

How could he have been so blind? Blind to his fiance's suffering-

"Victor, what-!"

He turns his head to see Yurio and Phichit running towards him. He's well aware of how he looks right now. Beaten and scared but he can't care less about his appearance.

Phichit and Yurio fall silent once they see him. And they sit down with him, both shaking and crying.

He looks down and a glint of gold catches his eyes. Victor flinches, reminded of his failure.

* * *

The events pass by like a blur until he finds himself sitting beside Yuuri.

Yuuri, his fiance, who he failed.

He's holding his hand, praying to anyone out there, for his Yuuri to wake up.

 _"The severe blood loss he endured led to a cardiac arrest._

 _He's slipped into a coma."_

And it hurts because Yuuri is his light, his love, his _everything._ He was so close to losing his world. He was out with other people while the love of his life was slowly slipping away.

He never wants to experience this again.

The mere thought of going through life without Yuuri was.. unbearable. Waking up without Yuuri by his side, it would destroy him. It would kill him.

Victor would give up all his medals, all his awards, his titles, if it means that his Yuuri will be safe.

But that's not how the world works.

No matter how much Victor would give up and sacrifice, Yuuri is still on this bed, with his life hanging on the line.

No matter how much Victor would beg to whatever deity was out there,

it doesn't change the fact that his fiance tried to commit suicide.

Yuuri might wake up but that doesn't mean it'll be alright. And Victor starts to cry again because

 _they'll have to put Yuuri on suicide watch._

And his grief is threatening to drown him.

The reality of the event starts to sink in and Victor thinks,

 _if only he hadn't left him, if only he hadn't been so blind._

The heart monitor continues its beeping,

and Victor is left with if only's and regrets.


	3. and we keep living anyway

Yuuri wakes up with a start. He immediately notices the various machines hooked up to him. And notices that someone is holding his hand.

 _Victor._

And the memories of his failed suicide attempt rushes back to him.

And he doesn't know what to do.

 _How do you keep on living when you no longer want to?_

He knows very well that he'll be constantly watched and he won't be left alone.

Yuuri frowns. Because, why can't Victor **understand?** Victor is too kind, too blind. He can't see Yuuri's flaws, can't see that Yuuri **doesn't deserve him.**

 _"How pathetic, you can't even kill yourself properly."_

And he's clutching his other arm tightly and small cuts start to form because of the pressure.

 ** _He didn't want to be saved-_**

"Yuuri?"

His gaze snaps back to Victor to see him awake and blearily rubbing his eyes. Yuuri bites his bottom lip, he doesn't want to see Victor hurt, he doesn't want this, why couldn't they understand, he doesn't want _to do this anymore, please just let me go-_

And a sob tears through the silence in the room.

Victor's breath hitches and a gasp tears through the stillness of the room.

And Victor starts crying and he feels arms wrap around him.

The hospital gown quickly becomes soaked as Victor cries in his shoulder. And Victor holds him tighter, as though if he loosened his grip, he would disappear.

And Yuuri is overcome with shame.

* * *

Yuuri's released from the hospital and Victor is with him, constantly hovering and worrying.

Victor didn't let Yuuri out of his sight for the first few weeks, scared that if he does, he'll vanish. And Yuuri understands that.

He doesn't want to burden Victor with more problems so he keeps quiet. Doesn't tell him about his thoughts. About his sudden needs to cut. But Victor exerts so much effort to connect with him, to make him comfortable,

 _and it hurts._

It hurts to watch his fiance panic and hold on to him like a lifeline.

The blades and knives are all hidden from his sight.

Yuuri smiles bitterly because _of course_ , they wouldn't trust him.

The weeks pass by silently.

Communication was never a strong point for both of them.

They take a break from skating, keeping the incident under the wraps as much as they could.

He receives dozens of messages and calls from the others to the point where Yuuri can no longer bring up the will to even look at them.

It was all the same anyway.

 _"How are you?"_

 _"Are you alright?"_

 _"I'm sorry-"_

But that- that won't fix this. Won't fix _**this.**_

Apologies- no, words were useless.

A few days he was released from the hospital, Victor catches him with a cutter,

The mug drops to the floor, shattering to pieces.

 _Victor's hand is shaking._

 _He sees Yuuri holding a cutter in his hand, while 2 small cuts forming on his arm. Yuuri flinches and turns away. Victor stalks towards his fiance and starts to clean his wounds. Victor grabs the cutter and throws it away as though it were on fire._

 _He's finished wrapping the bandages and Victor grasps Yuuri's hands, he feels Yuuri startle but he continues. He holds his hands tightly. When he feels him relax, he wraps his arms around his fiance. They spend the night in silence._

* * *

"Why are you still here?"

Victor glances back at his fiance and his heart breaks a little bit, looking at the tired and sunken eyes of Yuuri.

"Because I love you."

Yuuri's mouth forms a small frown and before he can say anything, Victor kneels in front of him and says,

"You are my life, my world. You are perfect in my eyes. Please don't doubt that."

And Yuuri still doesn't understand. He can't comprehend just _how_ and _why_ someone like Victor would say this to someone like him.

But Yuuri knows that it would only hurt him more if he were to question Victor's actions. And he keeps his silence.

* * *

It's when they're sitting in silence when Yuuri says, "Thank you."

Victor starts to tear up and holds him tighter.

* * *

Victor's covered in frosting and attempting to catch Makkachin when Yuuri laughs for the first time- after his suicide attempt.

Victor responds with a huge grin and tackles Yuuri to the ground.

They both laugh, their clothes and hair stained with frosting and Makkachin jumps on them.

* * *

They stand in front of the altar, reciting their vows to each other,

Victor kisses Yuuri in front of everyone and the cheering and claps start.

It might've taken a long time to get here, but for his Yuuri, it was all worth it.

* * *

Victor is startled awake and he notices that the sun hasn't risen yet.

He turns to his head and stretches out his right hand, staring at his ring,

and grasps the sheets tightly, missing the warmth that should be by his side.

The counterpart of his ring and the owner is buried six feet under.

 _A cruel dream._

 _And a harsh reality._

Later that day, with every cut, his end draws closer.

-Victor Nikiforov was found dead two weeks after Yuuri Katsuki's death.

He was buried next to his fiance.

 _Death doesn't discriminate_

 _Between the sinners and the saints,_

 _it takes and it takes and it takes_

 _and we keep living anyway_


End file.
